


And thus, he died

by SwanFloatieKnight



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Battle, Battle of Five Armies, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Death, Erebor, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29556588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwanFloatieKnight/pseuds/SwanFloatieKnight
Summary: waz hilfet, ob ich'z lange sage?der marcgrâve was mit klageob sîner swester kinde.Thorin survives the Battle of the Five Armies. Fíli, however, does not.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	And thus, he died

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading Vivianz' death scene in Wolfram's Willehalm and it made me think of Thorin and Fíli and for some reason I felt the urge to hurt myself by writing this fic 😅
> 
> Translation of the summary:  
> What does it help if I lament for long?  
> The margrave was grieving  
> over his sister's child. (Wh 69, 17 - 19)

A/N: I posted this fic on Ao3, and on Ao3 alone. If you read this on any other website or platform, please consider that I did not consent to this.

* * *

The battle is long over when he finally finds Fíli among the corpses of the orcs that surround him. He is alive, but barely, and it is clear to everyone who sees him that he will not live to see the next day. Thorin knows this. He knows and yet he refuses to believe it.

“Fíli! Oh, Mahal! I’ll get you to a healer!”

But Fíli only smiles up at him, a distant look in his eyes. “They told me I would see you once more before the end…”

“Shh… don’t talk.” Thorin kneels down in the mud next to his nephew and lets Fíli’s head rest in his lap. He wanted to inspect his wounds at first, but Fíli seems at peace. There is no use in pretending things will be all right when the young dwarf already knows it is over. “Who told you so?”

“The voices. I heard their voices. Our ancestors were there, talking to me, all of them up to Durin the Deathless himself. They told me you would come for me. You would be there for me in this hour.” He smiles weakly. “I am not afraid to join them now. I have earned my place among them.”

He coughs and his face scrunches up in pain and Thorin feels all the grief and desperation of the world crushing his heart. Here lies his nephew, the one who should have followed him, who should have been king after him when he had long returned to the stone. His golden hair is bloodstained, his lips are pale and there is pain in his eyes, but underneath all the pain and fear there is also something else.

Something that vaguely reminds Thorin of hope.

“You will live on and become the greatest King under the Mountain, uncle. And Kili will be a great king after you. He will be worthy of taking my place. Our people will prosper. You will lead this kingdom to glory once more, Thorin.”

Thorin’s eyes are burning. He cannot imagine ever facing Dís again. How is he supposed to look his sister in the eye and tell her that her son, her little boy, Fíli, died in his arms? He cannot do this. Fíli should not be lying here, it should be him, he should take his place and Fíli, Fíli has to live on…

“I should never have let you come. I should never have made this axe you are carrying now. You should have stayed home in the Blue Mountains with your brother. You are too young to – ”

He doesn’t finish his sentence but they both know what he thinks. Too young to know the horrors of war. Too young to sacrifice his life on the battlefield.

Too young to die.

Fíli coughs again and there is blood now on his otherwise pale face. “Don’t do this, Thorin. You only did what I asked of you. And I am glad you did it. I was there to protect you when you needed me by your side.”

“You – ”

“I’m glad you came. At least I don’t have to die alone.” Weakly, Fíli reaches out for Thorin and his uncle takes his hand and holds it gently.

“No, you do not. I am here.” A tear runs down Thorin’s cheek. He resists the urge to wipe it away. There is no shame in crying, and certainly not over the death of a loved family member. Not over the death of a noble warrior as his young nephew was. Who had fought to reclaim a home that he had never lived in. He had only heard stories about Erebor, and they had been enough for him to follow Thorin on the quest, into battle, to his death.

“You’re a great king, Thorin. It was an honour… serving you…” Fíli takes one last, deep breath. “Tell Mum that I love her.”

Thorin cries when his soul leaves his body. Fíli’s noble heart he will always remember, as well as there will be songs sung about his deeds in battle. The golden-haired dwarf prince who fell defending his king and uncle.

For long minutes Thorin remains seated next to his dead body. He cries for him like he has not cried in many years. Only when Dwalin finds him and pats his shoulder in compassion Thorin looks up again and slowly struggles to his feet. His time for mourning is over. Now is his time to be king.

He orders his soldiers to pick up Fíli’s body and carry him back to the mountain, with all honours befit of a future king. A king who will now never take up his place. Who had died for a home and a kingdom he would never live in.

All that is left for Thorin to do is to give him a place to rest in the deep stone tombs close to their ancestors. A place worthy for a great king.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave me a comment and kudos :D


End file.
